When the Sun Rises Red

By Eerie

Nine

The snow had stopped falling completely by the time Fayt and Albel had gathered their things for their departure from Airyglyph. The king was immersed in some sort of business of his own, so Albel curtly ordered one of the pages to relay a message to him once the monarch was unoccupied. Albel had retained his bad mood ever since his rude awakening that afternoon, so Fayt didn't bother chancing conversation as the pair traversed the long castle bridge toward the mountain path. The air still carried a cold bite, and Fayt tugged his hood tighter around his face. He had a nagging feeling that they shouldn't have been departing so abruptly; it seemed as though they were leaving something terrible behind in that dungeon. It wasn't right that the Glyphians should have to deal with such a thing on their own if it still remained. But at the same time he half hoped it really was still there and not following them back. That sort of selfish thinking bothered him, but all he knew was that he didn't want to ever witness the kind of thing he had seen down there again.

A few stray wolves, motivated by hunger, were out prowling along the cliff's edge when they passed. Upon seeing the lonely travelers the beasts hunkered down and snarled, occasionally whipping a tongue along scruffy jaws. Albel had the Crimson Scourge ready. The leader of the scraggly pack, however, grunted to signal the group to slow their advancements, as if the old beast could sense Albel's sheer malignity and knew there was little chance of finding an easy meal there. The other wolves whimpered and followed when the leader turned and darted away.

Albel relaxed his stance and resheathed his blade. Fayt heard him harrumph and knew his companion had been anticipating spilled blood. He almost regretted the few and far between encounters with the mountain animals from then on. It might have given the older man something to take out his aggressions upon.

Fortunately, however, they were able to get a fire going in a larger cave that evening. Since the weather was not as bad, Albel took up the first watch as Fayt stretched out on the smooth but cold-hardened dirt to sleep. The night was still, and he nodded off almost immediately. But when Fayt's back started to cramp and his eyes fluttered open as he shifted his weight into a new position, he found the first streak of carmine on the clouds' underbellies already at play. Sitting up and whipping around toward the mouth of the cave, he saw Albel's silhouette sitting hunched there. He scrambled to a stand.

"Albel! You were supposed to wake me up so I could take the second watch. Geez. Didn't you sleep at all?"

The Glyphian didn't turn. "How could I?" His voice was soft, almost hollow, and not like him at all.

Fayt ducked out of the cave to check out the area. The wind was blowing cold again and the sky to the west was nearly black with snow clouds, despite the early morning sun cracking through the east. Still, there was an atmosphere of desolation, as if they were in the middle of a wasteland. Maybe it had always looked that way and he never actually noticed it before, but Fayt couldn't deny that something in the air felt distinctively melancholy. He didn't sense any danger in it, but it was not comforting either.

Fayt turned to see if Albel was going to get up so they could set out soon, his mouth already open to speak, but the sight of the man stopped him. Albel's face was sickly pale, his eyes pink and rimmed in scarlet. Blue quarter moons etched the inner curves of his eyes. Fayt sucked his words back into his throat. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees and seized Albel's shoulders. He was afraid that Albel had retreated somewhere away from his body, like the place that haunted his sleep; he barely looked conscious even with his eyes open. Fayt jerked him once, firmly.

Slowly Albel blinked and pulled his focus in to settle on Fayt. "What is it?" He said it as though he really had been asleep the whole time.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Albel shook his head. "I didn't sleep. I wouldn't."

Fayt didn't actually have to ask to understand, but he did so anyway. "What is it then? Why are you afraid to fall asleep?"

A sneer broke Albel's stony expression. "I'm not afraid of anything, worm. You should remember that." He pushed Fayt away and stood, wavering slightly. "Let's go. We're wasting time."

Fayt reached out and grabbed Albel's arm to steady him. "Just wait a second, okay? Are you sure you're all right?"

Albel jerked away. "Get your hands off me!" He took a few steps forward and stopped. His voice was calmer and almost apologetic when he spoke again. "I'm fine. Come on."

Fayt was skeptical, but retrieved their pack from the cave and followed anyway.

They arrived back in Kirlsa in good time; the sun had yet to set on the horizon, but the sky was rich with its promise. Woltar greeted them soon after they entered the mansion. A few servants were bustling around in the kitchen beyond, preparing extra supper for the lords' sudden return no doubt. Albel grunted his usual wordless greeting in response to Woltar's warm expression and jumped up the staircase, eager to rid himself of his heavy winter garb. Fayt was also just beginning to work off his bulk when he discovered the spark of wild curiosity in Woltar's eyes. The older man watched him expectantly.

Fayt looked down to avoid that gaze. "We were too late."

"Then, they were all already…"

Fayt nodded. His first duty leading up to his knighthood was a failure. Somehow he couldn't help feeling he had let Woltar down. He distracted himself by blankly watching a gaggle of servants clomp hurriedly up the stairs carrying steaming buckets of water. Though he could only truly speak for one of the soldiers that had been swallowed by the mysterious dark, he was all but certain a similar fate befell the others.

"That is terrible news. Most unfortunate. Were you able to discover the cause?"

The last thing Fayt wanted was to talk about the seemingly impossible. Would Woltar really believe that the place was infested with demons? Or at the very least, inspired unimaginably nightmarish hallucinations? Well, even if the old man was capable of taking the truth for what it was, Fayt felt sick just considering relaying the story in words. He'd hardly believed it himself, anyway.

"It must have been suffocation, or exposure. It was freezing down there. They must've gotten lost and just…"

Woltar nodded as Fayt trailed off. "I see. Well, I am grateful that you and Albel made it back safely. I'm sure you are glad to be out of those dreadful mountains as well."

"It wasn't so bad on the way back."

"I am pleased to hear that. Ah, but I've kept you too long. I'm sure you are just as eager as Albel to remove your burdens. Please refresh yourself upstairs. Supper should be served in less than an hour. However, if you feel you need to rest I will understand completely."

"Thank you." Fayt started up the stairs, relieved that he wasn't obligated to be awake within an hour's time. He wasn't sure he'd even make it twenty more minutes as it was. As his feet fell on the second floor landing, he wondered if Albel would sleep at all. He was the one that desperately needed it.

The more he thought about it, the more concerned he grew. Once Fayt had changed into more comfortable clothes he slipped out of his bedroom and crossed the landing toward Albel's door. He knocked and waited until a half undressed Albel answered. The older man gestured Fayt inside anyway.

"I was just wondering if you were alright. Do you think you'll be able to sleep tonight?" Fayt watched as Albel paid no heed to modesty and stripped from the remainder of his clothing. The fire burning from the corner of the room illuminated his naked skin so that his flesh glowed a rich orange. The material normally binding his hair at the back had been unwound, and for the first time Fayt saw Albel's long hair hang freely down his back.

"I was planning on trying, after a bath," Albel replied. "That is, if those incompetent fools have readied it as I bade them." He kicked the heavy coat out of his path from where it lay rumpled on the floor. He made a distasteful face at Fayt as he moved to exit the room. "You could stand to do with one as well."

From Albel's current attitude, it was hard to believe he had seen the older man in the cracked state he had been in that morning on the mountain. It might have been the familiarity of the manor that restored some of his bearings. But Fayt was sure that Albel wasn't totally relieved. He himself was still far from it.

The door to the bathing room opened with a screech and Fayt felt compelled to follow Albel inside. Was his statement an invitation? He wasn't really expected to bathe in the same water once Albel was finished, was he? He couldn't bear to ask the servants to haul fresh, hot water back up the stairs again. It was nothing short of miraculous that they even got it heated so fast as it was.

Whether it was respect for the manor lord or fear of inciting Albel's infamous rage, the bath awaited ready: full and steaming in the middle of the room. Fayt lingered at the threshold; he couldn't help staring with a degree of longing at the water's inviting sight. Albel paused at the edge of the tub—which was larger than he had expected—and looked back at Fayt.

"Well? Are you coming in or going out? Shut the damn door one way or the other." Albel lowered himself into the water with a slight hiss, his back to Fayt.

Though half tempted to leave, Fayt couldn't quite bring his feet to back away. Instead he moved fully into the already steaming room and closed the door with a rusty click behind him. He stood like that for a moment, fingers splayed over the slightly warped wood behind his back, before pushing himself away and lifting his hands unsteadily to the zipper of his tunic. Well, the tub was big enough for two.

After the moment it took him to unclad himself, Fayt approached the tub and circled to the other side. He noticed immediately that Albel wasn't looking at him; in fact, it appeared as though he had already dozed off with his head resting at a slight angle against the wooden tub's ledge. Fayt gently lowered himself into the water and found its temperature a welcome contrast to the bitter cold through which he had had to suffer over the course of the past few days. It stung, but the pain was almost pleasant.

Locating a bar of soap resting on the ledge nearby, Fayt picked it up and began to work it over his skin. The scent of fresh cottonwood filled his nostrils, and he breathed the comforting aroma in deeply. He scrubbed it thoroughly through his hair before dunking down to rinse it out. It felt as though he hadn't washed his hair in eons.

"Albel?" he called softly once he was finished. He prayed Albel wouldn't awaken with a violent start again.

The swordsman merely blinked to signal his consciousness and took the soap from Fayt's offering hand. He began to cleanse his body in silence, his mind clearly occupied by some troublesome blight. Fayt could easily guess its origins.

"It was all the people I've killed. Down there. I saw them all. There were kids…"

Albel looked up at Fayt, the glaze clearing from his eyes. Then he nodded, and it was all he needed to do to illustrate that he understood anything Fayt couldn't bring himself to say.

Fayt studied his companion, hoping Albel would finally speak up. "Something tells me what you saw was far worse."

"I don't know what I saw," Albel quickly replied. "Only that it breached an unforgivable boundary." A slightly pained expression flitted over his features as he stared into the steaming water. "And, I would just prefer not to think on it right now."

"Hey, do you remember what Luther said that day? About some new 'program'? I've been thinking about that lately. You don't suppose all of this had something to do with that, do you?"

"I would never claim to understand that lunatic's words. Besides, he's dead now."

Fayt furrowed his brow. "…Yeah…" He knew this to be true, obviously, as he had been there that day. But ever since Sophia had voiced her doubts in such a panicked manner, he couldn't shake the terrible, hesitant feeling newly instilled in his chest.

Albel deposited the soap back on the ledge and ducked down beneath the water's surface to rub the suds out of his scalp. When he reemerged, he smoothed the hair out of his face and wiped the water from his eyes. His hair clung to his chest and shoulders in wet, snaking strips.

Fayt caught himself staring, his mode of thought gracelessly shifting like a derailed train. He thought about everything that had happened to them over the course of the last few weeks. They now officially lived together. That fact alone was strange in a sense. They had shared Albel's bed in Airyglyph and slept the entire night. At the time, Fayt hadn't really thought much about it, but now that they were currently sharing a tub together, the realization that they hadn't been physical since that painful night on the Diplo drove itself home. The stress of their travels, everything they had seen and lived through…it was little wonder they were both nearly out of their minds from the frustration. Seeing Albel now, sitting across from him yet being so close their legs could easily brush together, made Fayt's pulse begin to accelerate.

"Hey," Fayt said softly. When Albel looked at him, his expression blank and lips saying nothing, Fayt couldn't help the curl tugging one corner of his mouth upward. "Why did you let me get in here with you?"

Albel snorted. "What, you would have preferred waiting until the water grew cold?"

Fayt let out an amused sigh. "Like I'd believe you were really considering me like that."

Albel narrowed his eyes, but kept them trained on the green ones before him. Fayt had always played it relatively cautious around Albel, as the man's temper was akin to a teetering bomb, but right now he was tired of tiptoeing that field of eggshells. The more he mused on it, the more his blood began to sing in his veins.

Shifting himself to his knees, he moved to straddle the outstretched legs next to him and leaned his body into Albel's without so much as a warning. Half expecting a painful retaliation, or even a cutting insult at the very least, Fayt was surprised to find that Albel didn't react at all, but simply watched him. Fayt took that as permission and tilted his head, not failing to notice the nearly imperceptible way Albel's lips parted as he drew in closer.

Their initial contact was soft, deft, so unlike the first time they had done this. Fayt lifted his hands to the back of Albel's head and neck, closing his eyes and initiating their kiss to a deeper level of intimacy. It didn't take more than a few moments of that to provoke a twitch of life from Albel's groin, and his own hardly needed much more motivation before he was completely hard. Fayt was almost relieved when Albel finally responded by sliding his hands over Fayt's sides as if holding him in place. Settling himself even closer so that he sat on Albel's lap, Fayt slowly began to grind. That touch alone was already good enough to get him going. There was no doubt that they both desperately needed this in one way or another.

Trailing his right hand down Albel's chest—taking care to brush his fingers over a nipple—Fayt sought the source of their clumsy movements. Wrapping his hand loosely around both of their erections, he formed a barrier to keep them together as he continued to steadily rub himself against Albel's arousal. Albel responded by gripping Fayt's rear, kneading the flesh there as he moaned low into Fayt's mouth.

Fayt was already incredibly turned on, so when he heard that groan—actually felt it tumble over his lips and tongue—he unconsciously picked up his pace a notch. He could sense they were both climbing up that summit at a rather animalistic rush; it had been too long. So when Albel's scarred hand moved from his backside to join his hand on their cocks, its strange and almost rigid skin adding unexpected stimulation to Fayt's sensitive shaft, he let out an unstable moan of his own and ground harder.

Knocking at the bathing room's door caught them both off guard, and Fayt paused in alarm. He broke their kiss and glanced up at the door in a mixture of panic and guilt. Albel, on the other hand, never bothered to stop, and even encouraged Fayt to keep going by pressing up into him and pushing against his rear in a meaningful manner.

"Lord Albel? Is there anything else I can get for you?" a muffled, feminine voice called out from the other side.

Albel turned his head to the side so his voice would carry further across the room. "Not now."

"Alright. Lord Woltar bade me to inform you that dinner will be served in twenty minutes."

"Yes, yes fine!"

Albel turned his attentions back to Fayt, who realized that Albel's stern composure hadn't wavered at all while he addressed the maidservant, even in this situation. Fayt couldn't help but laugh under his breath before seeking Albel's mouth again. Before long their distraction was already forgotten and they were both absorbed back into more pressing matters. It had only taken a minute or two before they were breathing heavily into one another's mouths and coming hard between stiffening fingers.

Fayt shuddered in the wake of his orgasm and slumped heavily against Albel's body, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a loose, affectionate embrace.

"I can't even tell you how much I needed that," Fayt admitted lazily in Albel's ear.

"How like you to be satisfied from something so simple," Albel retorted and pried Fayt's arms off his neck.

Fayt knew Albel was bluffing; he had felt firsthand how much the man had actually enjoyed it. Yet he allowed Albel to push him away without complaining. "So, in other words you're offering round two?"

Albel was just beginning to get out of the tub when he paused, giving Fayt a bemused look. "Tch. Perhaps if you want to be fucked senseless…" He stood and exited the bath, seeking a towel from the stack resting on the table against the wall. After wrapping it around his waist he made his way to the door. "I suppose I can oblige you later. But right now, I'm starving." With that, he left Fayt alone in the steam-filled room.

That night, as he lay awaiting sleep in his bed, Fayt watched the moonlight creep sluggishly yet inexorably over the walls as the minutes ticked by. He was tired, and though he was sure that he would slumber like the dead this night, he found his mind unwilling to allow him a moment's peace once his head landed on the pillow. Albel had retired to his room after supper with his usual, stoic, wordless exit. The meal itself wasn't as painful as he'd expected; Woltar seemed strangely satisfied by their story concerning the Airyglyph dungeons, though the tale itself was only a residue of what had really happened. The rest of the time, Fayt had fielded Woltar's questions about his knighthood induction. The old man was clearly happy about having Fayt among Airyglyph's military ranks, and that positive aura seemed to make up for the sour discretion Fayt had been subjected to during the ceremony itself.

Once the meal was over and Woltar excused himself to retire for the night, Fayt, somewhat looking forward to making good on Albel's offer, had gone upstairs some minutes later and knocked on Albel's door. Receiving no answer, Fayt had pushed the door open a crack and seen Albel curled up on the bed, already passed out in the glow of the fireplace. Fayt couldn't bring himself to rouse Albel after that. Not when he knew how terribly Albel needed to rest. So he'd closed the door and retired to his room to do the same. Though, now the better part of him almost wished he had woken Albel up if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer through the night hours like this.

Flipping over the umpteenth time in a futile effort to find a comfortable position, Fayt sighed. He was simply too wound up for some reason, and knew with a certain degree of certainty that sleep would not come to him any time soon. It might be better if he just wore himself out somehow. A walk through the town might do just that.

Despite his body's sluggish resistance, he hauled himself out of bed and dressed. The manor was still and quiet at that hour; all the servants had doubtlessly retired some time ago. Sconces fueled by low currents of runological power flickered in the hallways and illuminated his trek down the grand staircase. The front door barely made a sound as he exited the house. Both guards stood relaxed against the walls on wither side of the gate, but perked from their sleepy states at the sound of Fayt's approach.

"Sir?" one of them asked with a decidedly confused expression as Fayt stepped up to the iron gate. "Is something amiss?"

"No," Fayt replied, "everything's fine. Just going out for a bit. I'll be back shortly."

The two guards exchanged a grief glance before the first one complied with Fayt's wishes and opened the gate.

The night was cold, still, and the town rested in a thick blanket of sleep. Even the wintry wind had stilled. The moon, bloated and bright as it slowly traversed the sky, seemed to be the only other body stirring as Fayt meandered about. He hadn't been paying too much mind as to where his feet took him, just allowed his mind to go empty as he admired the quaint shapes of the town architecture. Its roofs and weathervanes glowed in the moonlight, their sharp points and edges all at once threatening and familiar against the dark skyline.

He hadn't realized he had circled nearly then entire spans of the town until he approached the road leading to the Traum Mountains, where the air was always colder. This night, however, the chill was strangely more founded even in the absence of the winds. Shivering, he was about to turn back to the mansion when a shadow caught his eye from the mountain road. A human figure, approaching the town. Someone was coming down from the mountains.

Fayt paused, studying the silhouette in the dark and trying to reason why anyone would be out traveling at this time of night. Whoever it was must have seen him as well, for the figure lifted an arm in greeting in Fayt's direction. Whether from curiosity or from worry over the stranger's condition, Fayt moved to meet the person halfway.

As he neared, Fayt could see from the figure's general build that it was a man, swathed in a dark cloak, the hood of which fell loose and massive over the upper portion of his face. Fayt had little time to wonder over the lack of any traveling bags on the man's person before a voice greeted him.

"Good evening!"

Fayt smiled thinly before realizing that the dark overlaying the town probably concealed his expression. "Uh…hello."

The man stopped a few paces before Fayt and chuckled shortly as he dusted the scant flakes of snow off his cloak's shoulders. "Weather's getting bad again up there. Looks like I made it just in time. Um, I hate to inconvenience you, sir, but could you please point me toward the nearest inn?"

Even with a general lack of light, Fayt could see by the shine of the moon that the man was gaunt; he looked decidedly unhealthy and possibly over-traveled. His ears didn't miss the faint wheezing coming from the wanderer's lungs, and Fayt suddenly felt somewhat remorseful for behaving coldly to someone that was surely in need of help. "Yeah, sure. It's pretty close by so I can just take you there." He gestured with his thumb pointing over his shoulder.

The silver moonlight caught on a set of fine, white teeth when the traveler smiled. "I would certainly appreciate that. Feels like I've been walking all day."

Fayt began to walk in the direction of the inn and the man quickly fell into step beside him. The silence between them for the first moment left an uncomfortable feeling in Fayt's chest. He had to break the silence. "You're from Airyglyph?" he ventured.

"Recently, yes," the stranger said in a rich voice that betrayed no fatigue. "I had some business there. But I'm actually from Greeton, originally."

Fayt recalled the day he and Cliff had to cover themselves when they first arrived on Elicoor II by claiming that they were from that continent. Other than Nell's revelation that the kingdom was far more advanced than the rest of the planet, everything else about the place remained a mystery. In truth, he had always been curious about its inhabitants and just how much they knew technologically.

"Really? So you're a merchant?"

"Well, yes and no. I suppose you could say I deal in knowledge. I'm a teacher of sorts."

"I see." Fayt wasn't sure what else to say at this point, as the man seemed to be deliberately evasive. And he wasn't sure if it would appear rude to pry any further. Still, something about this person intrigued him.

"And you? Forgive me, but you don't seem like a native to these parts."

"Actually, I'm…" Fayt hesitated; the first thing about to leave his lips was that same old lie about being from Greeton as well, but naturally this would no longer hold up. "I'm just staying with a friend who lives here."

The man lifted his head slightly, but not enough to allow the moonlight to spill into his hood. "That's nice. Friends are wonderful things."

"So, what is it you teach?"

The man laughed shortly, quietly. "Just about everything. Are you curious about Greeton's technology?"

The query was sudden, so precise that Fayt briefly wondered if his mind was exposed and being read. "Well, yes. Actually I am."

"Hmm. I can see you're a bright one. You have much talent for runology in you." The man glanced at Fayt before ducking his head down again. "I hope I haven't disturbed you. I know a fair bit myself, and am quite adept at spotting the talent in young people."

"I didn't know Greeton had runologists."

"Yes, we do. Though it might be of a somewhat different breed than you are used to."

They came to the front door of the inn, where Fayt stopped. The stranger looked up at the signboard. "Ah. You weren't lying when you said it was close." He lifted a hand toward his guide. "Well, I thank you all the same for you help, mister…"

Fayt eyed the hand for a moment, dismayed to find it just as colorless as the man's lower face had been. How could anyone who traveled be so pale? Perhaps it was only the moon playing tricks with the light. Discovering his hesitation to be evident, Fayt quickly grasped the hand and allowed a friendly shake to connect them before the man let go. "Fayt."

The even smile returned. "Fayt. It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He turned to enter the building.

"You…haven't told me your name," Fayt replied before he could disappear inside.

The traveler stopped and turned back, pausing a moment to watch Fayt stand against the backdrop of night before he replied. "Romero."

"Nice to meet you, then." Fayt lifted an arm in a gesture of farewell, but was halted by Romero's voice.

"You know, I have some dealings to attend to in this fair town tomorrow, but I'll not be occupied all day. Perhaps, if your curiosity remains, we can exchange information over drinks."

Fayt could hardly control the reply that slipped from his mouth, as if it came of its own accord. "I'd like that."

"Wonderful. Perhaps around sunset? I will be anticipating our meeting. Good night, then." With that, the cloaked man shut the inn's door behind him and all was still again.

Fayt breathed the cold night air in deep, wondering why his face felt so strangely warm at that moment. He wondered if he would even recognize the man again should he choose to seek him out the next day. However, it might be worth trying. He had met intelligent people on Elicoor; of that there was no question. But the opportunity to converse with someone whose knowledge exceeded that of the scientists who helped to build the runological cannon could not be passed up. Perhaps he could even glean some knowledge to help improve the lives of those who had been caught up in the war.

Fayt returned to Woltar's mansion, suddenly feeling drowsy, yet anticipating the day that would come upon awakening.

A/N: It seems my sparkly return includes frottage. Ahem. Uh, anyway! The answer to your question is yes, but please don't hold your breath. I will update again before an incomprehensible span of time passes this time. I have a ton of projects crowding the burner right now. D:

Thanks, as always, for reading, and yeah. Damn. I've been estranged for a long, LONG time.